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Instead of answering me directly, he said, “Try some more magic.”
I tried for the sparks, since they were the most obvious indicator of how much power I was putting out. Instead of the big showers I’d had earlier, I barely managed a few sputters at the ends of my fingers. Since that was barely visible a few feet away, I kept going until I couldn’t even generate a faint glow. “Okay, looks like I’m done,” I said.
I forced myself not to shudder. I was fine with being a magical immune, but I wasn’t looking forward to the in-between stage when I’d be like most humans—susceptible to magic, but unable to use it. I’d lost my immunity a time or two from a potion, and it had been a nightmare. I wasn’t sure how normal people survived. Being “normal” to me was as bad as the way Owen saw being immune.
“Then we should go, now,” Florence said, standing from where she’d been watching the magic-draining process. Her human appearance returned as she stood. “I think I can get you through the streets without any major guard encounters. If someone does stop us, try to act like you’re under the spell, and I’ll pretend I caught you. I’d rather not blow my cover if I can help it.”
Despite her assurance, I wasn’t happy about leaving the relatively safe harbor of the park. I associated the cityscape with being hunted and on the run. Once we were back in the city, it didn’t look any different to me, but I supposed it wouldn’t yet.
Owen took my hand in his as we walked. “I don’t know how long it will take to drain the last of the magic, so maybe I should start now,” he murmured.
“Good idea,” I replied, keeping my voice too low for the others to hear. “We won’t exactly be able to tell the portal guards to hold on a sec while we restore my magical immunity so I can get past their wards.” I shivered as I felt the tingle between our clasped hands.
Florence must have known the pattern of any patrols because we didn’t run into anyone on our way to that small park. By the time we got there, my magic levels must have been hovering around the “E” on the gauge because the buildings flickered when I looked at them out of the corner of my eye. There was still something there, but it was just a big, blank box instead of a block of picturesque brownstones.
“This place isn’t nearly as nice without the illusion,” I whispered to Owen. “It really does look like a prison.”
Then I did a double take. On top of the building across the street from the park was a row of gargoyles. I didn’t see them if I looked directly at them, but they flickered in and out of sight if I didn’t try to focus on them. I reached around and grabbed Owen’s jacket with my free hand. “Owen, they’ve got gargoyles here! Instead of trying to make them look normal and enchanting them to think they belonged here, they must have just brought them through the portal, stuck them on the nearest building, and veiled them.” I paused to think about it, then added, “Though I suppose they could have enchanted them to think they really were regular gargoyles who can’t talk or move. I know I didn’t see them when we were here before.”
He turned to look, even though he couldn’t see them. “Do you recognize any of them?”
“They’re pretty far away, and I still don’t see them if I look directly. But if we could snap them out of it, they’d be helpful in getting to that portal.”
“Florence!” Owen called out. She stopped and turned around. “Can you see the gargoyles on the roof?”
“Nope. My security clearance is pretty low. I had a limited assignment. You’re saying some of your gargoyles are up there?”
“Maybe.”
“We have to try,” I urged Owen. “We still have some time before our diversion starts.”
“Give us a few minutes,” Owen said. Still holding my hand, he led me to the nearest set of steps, and then we went into the building and up until we reached the stairs that led to the roof.
The higher we climbed, the less substantial the staircase looked. The upper landing was as blank as those unformed rooms had been, without all the touches that had made these buildings seem real. It was disconcerting. To cover my dismay, I said, “You know, I feel ripped-off. If they were going to give me the ideal New York movie life, I should have had access to a romantic rooftop oasis, where we should have had at least one good scene. There’d be twinkling lights, some potted plants, and space to have dinner for two before dancing in the rain.”
“Really? That’s something you want? Dancing in the rain?”
“It’s what’s in all those movies. I don’t know if it’s actually any fun, though. I’ve never tried it.”
This rooftop wasn’t at all romantic, probably because I was back to my usual state in which illusion no longer worked on me. Part of me wanted to cry out in relief, but this wasn’t the best place to be a magical immune. The most realistic thing I saw was a row of frozen gargoyles.
I moved closer to them, still holding Owen’s hand, so that now I was leading him instead of the other way around. Sam wasn’t among the group, much to my relief, since I wanted him to be around on the other side to help take care of Sylvester, but I knew two of the gargoyles, Rocky and Rollo, who made the most unusual chauffeur team I’d ever met.
I faced Rollo and said, “Hey, Rollo, BRAAAAAAKE!” It was all I could think of, and I figured that tag-team driving, with one looking out the windshield and steering and the other working the pedals, was something truly unique to their existence in the real world.
The gargoyle shuddered, then slowly turned around to face me. “Oh, hi, Katie.” Then awareness of his surroundings seemed to hit, and he asked, “Where are we?”
“Not in Kansas,” I quipped. When he obviously didn’t get the reference, I said, “We’re prisoners in the elven realm, and you’ve been enchanted. But we’re about to try to get to the portal that will let us go warn Merlin about what’s happening.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, nodding as though that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. “Do you need some help with that?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. Do you know all these other gargoyles well?”
He looked up and down the row, then said, “Sure do.”
“Then talk to them. Call them by name and say something that should remind them of the real world. And then join us across the street.”
“Got it,” he said. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed at the best of times, but I figured I could count on him for that much, so Owen and I left the rooftop. I avoided looking beyond the immediate vicinity because I didn’t want to see what the idealized New York romantic comedy neighborhood looked like now. From the bits I’d seen, I had a feeling I’d have enough nightmares about being trapped in a featureless world, as it was. Without the illusions, it was like something out of a dystopian science fiction movie.
